


Lost and Found

by Lumiel_lightbringer



Series: Brothers (Lucifer & Michael) [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Family, Angels, Angst, Archangels, Awkward Tension, Brotherly Angst, Brothers, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Angels, Family Angst, Family Feels, Gen, Heaven, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Lucifer (Supernatural) Out of the Cage, Lucifer (Supernatural) in the Cage, Lucifer's Cage (Supernatural), Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Michael (Supernatural) Out of Lucifer's Cage, Michael (Supernatural) in Lucifer's Cage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-21 11:00:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21298346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumiel_lightbringer/pseuds/Lumiel_lightbringer
Summary: "He stares at Lucifer for a long time, and, quietly, whispers, 'Where are you, Lucifer?'He doesn't get a reaction. 'Where did you go, after you Fell?'Nothing.'I miss you.'"Or,Michael and Lucifer realise the other's insanity.(And, after being pulled from the Cage, try to solve it all.)
Relationships: Gabriel & Lucifer & Michael (Supernatural), Gabriel & Lucifer (Supernatural), Gabriel & Michael (Supernatural), Lucifer & Michael (Supernatural), Michael & Raphael (Supernatural)
Series: Brothers (Lucifer & Michael) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1452049
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I need to learn a new language because of my living situation and instead of learning that language I think I'm forgetting English.
> 
> Send help.  
Or an English major.

~

Lucifer lolls his head back, bumping it against the wall and staring down at Michael.

The torture seems to have stopped, but Lucifer just knows that means he's either fallen further into insanity, or the Cage is waiting for him to be unsuspecting. Probably both. Usually both.

Michael hasn't stopped staring at the same spot on the rusted floor since the last break in eternal torment.

Lucifer is certain that, by now, Michael's mental state has to be close to his - despite the older having been in the Cage for far less time, Lucifer knows how Michael reacts to punishment [1].

Lucifer lets out a long, loud groan.

He hates this.

Not just the mind numbing silence or the excruciating pain or even the mind games.

It's Michael that gets him.

Not Michael himself, or just his presence - though the thought of his older brother being anywhere near the Cage makes Lucifer's stomach churn - but his insanity.

Lucifer can see insanity like shrimp can see colour.

And Michael, right now, is not the posterboy for mental stability.

"Mikey." Lucifer mumbles, though he knows Michael won't respond. He never does. Even after Lucifer burnt himself out trying to flare up his Grace as loud and bright as possible just for his stupid gaze to stop staring at that stupid spot on the stupid ground.

"Michael." He whines, this time, his lip curling up. "Stop ignoring me."

He doesn't.

"The floor isn't that exciting, is it?"

Nothing.

"Am I boring? I don't feel boring. Maybe I am."

He's rambling.

"I think I'm rather interesting." Lucifer mumbles, head dipping down so he's looking at Michael from the top of his eyes, "I try to be, I guess... Maybe it doesn't work. Maybe that's why the humans hate me. I'm just so boring, is that it, Mikey? I'm just boring ol' Satan, eh?" He growls when Michael doesn't even look like he heard him. "C'mon, give me something, Michael. Anything! I'll work with a glare! I often do. More often than not, actually. A lot of people hate me, really. Like a lot. A fucking over abundance of hatred from the humans. Honestly. And don't get me started on the angels- they despise me. Worse than the humans, really. Oh and the demons. That lot are amazing at holding grudges. Could hate me three lifetimes in and still have room for more. Even I hate me! I'm horrible!"

He's definitely rambling.

"I mean- look at me! I'm the Devil! I fucking- I-" Lucifer shakes his head, staring out the miniscule crevices between the rock-like metal bars. "I'm horrible." He repeats, this time far quieter.

"I can't even look at myself."

Lucifer looks at Michael, but all he sees is a shell of his older brother. He's not listening, Lucifer knows. He never listened, really. Why would he start now? Here, even, of all places?

"I'm disgusting." He continues, looking back out the hole. "A vile creature of evil. I'm the face of Hell. Nothing good about that, is there? Never was anything good about me, was there?"

Lucifer's tone remains unsettlingly flat, "Always... Trying to get Dad's attention. Always trying to get your attention, more like... I mean, I love Dad, always have, always will... But it was real easy to see how little He cares. Only ever looked at me for a second, before going on to address your regal ass. Firstborns. You lot always get the most attention. Seen it in humans, too. Hate it, I do."

"You only ever cared about Him, though, isn't that it? I was never enough for you. I don't think I ever will be." No anger in his voice, no malice lacing the words. Flat. Neutral... Acceptance? "I mean, I-I get it. I do. Wanna impress the old man, but, in the whole of it all, do you ever think he'd really care?"

"Thousands, if not millions of universes out there. Timelines where from one to a kajillion things are different. Planets with life either stronger or weaker than all of us. We don't know. I don't know. Could be more archangels out there in this universe that none of us ever heard of."

"Why would He care about us? In particular, you or me? When He has creatures of all shapes, sizes, minds, bodies, whatever. Planets, worlds, Heavens, Hells, universes, timelines, variations, versions, the lot of it! I don't think it'll ever be enough. Not for Him. No. I don't think Dad will ever be done creating shit. Never will just make immortal beings, sit down, and love them. He didn't with the last, He won't with us, or with the next universe, or the next, or the next, or the trillionth. Why should He? When He can make more, make better versions. It's all just... A test. It's all His story, and we don't get to know the ending until it's in front of us on a fucking silver platter."

"All I wanted was Dad's love. But now? Now I just... I want love. I don't care if it's from Dad, you, Raph, one of the Lesser angels, a Prince of Hell, some demon, some human - actually, no, no, not that desperate. I just... I want my family back, Mike. I want you, most of all. But- but, no, no, I get it. I'm not good enough for you, I get it, really, I do. Really, you're not a bastard enough for me, in my professional opinion."

"I'll just settle with, I don't know, I'll... Alastair's ok company, I guess. Asmodeus is rather kinky but I guess I can learn to deal with that... Belphegor's lazy, but he's funny. Lilith's dead... But eh, she was always bit of a bitch. Uhmm... Mammon could be fun, I guess... Or Beelzebub..."

Silent tears roll down Lucifer's cheek as he stares ahead blankly, "But that's all if I get out of this blasted Cage... Which I highly doubt. Why should I? No one'd be stupid enough to remove all the seals again, not like they could, considering Lilith's already dead. It's a done deal, isn't it?"

"Sam and Adam got pulled out by Castiel, but no angel would come save me. And it isn't like anyone knows you're down here too. Castiel wouldn't say anything, his family is with those stupid hunters now, and even if he did, who'd believe him? Or, moreover, who'd believe him and have the willpower and strength to come down here and pull an archangel out of here? And they'd leave me, most likely. Who'd want Lucifer out of the naughty angel bin? No one. I'm just... I'm just stuck down here. Forever."

Lucifer takes a long, unnecessary breath in, "Whatever. Not like you'd care, anyway... You probably hate me, by now, anyway. Don't blame you, really. I was a douche. Your entire life I was that clingy cancerous lump on your neck and now I've not only foiled Dad's Plans, and your's in turn, since you live for Him, but I got you trapped down here for eternity. I'd say sorry, but you'd either not hear it or not care. But, for the record, I am sorry, Michael."

He pauses, looking back at his older brother, before back again. Michael hadn't moved.

"For everything."

After a minute, he adds, almost inaudibly, "For living."

Lucifer shuts his eyes, and lets the Cage pull him deeper down.

From across the Cage, a silent tear rolls down Michael's cheeks.

Maybe he's too far gone, maybe he's too insane to cope with this - this Cage; this situation.

But he always listened, despite Lucifer's words.

And he still does, and always will.

Michael shuts his eyes and sits back in the Cage, arms uncrossing and landing in his lap.

He stares at Lucifer for a long time, and, quietly, whispers, "Where are you, Lucifer?"

He doesn't get a reaction. "Where did you go, after you Fell?"

Nothing.

"I miss you."

"I'm sorry, too."

"...We'll get out... Together."

"It'll be alright..."

"We'll get out, and I'll find you, again."

"I'll find you, Lucifer..."

"I love you..."

"I love you..."

"I love you."

* * *

[1] In two words: Not Well.


	2. Chapter 2

~

Sitting on the throne, staring down at the mass of angels bustling by, and all she can think of is _where_.

Not that she's only concerned about the word 'where', but more of the question form, really.

_Where_ is Michael?

_Where_ would he go?

_Where_ would he hide?

And, more on that; _why_ would he hide?

Raphael sighs, running a hand over her face. Michael is not one to disappear, unless instructed to - which, really, why would God tell him to go off the grid?

And, by off the grid, it is quite literally off the grid.

Not only can no one contact him via Angel Radio, but God's Warrior's presence is nowhere in the angels' range - even Raphael's.

Letting out a deep breath, the remaining archangel shuts her eyes.

She has already sent out search parties and informed any trustworthy angel of Michael's disappearance. Almost every angel has eyes out looking for the First Archangel.

But, in one final hurrah, Raphael lets her voice be heard by every angel out there: "Michael... If you are out there... If you are still alive... Come home. Please. Please come home."

But, deep in her Grace, Raphael knows how fruitless it is. How useless it would be to tell every angel, traitor or not, that Michael is gone. How utterly counterproductive it is. But she doesn't care. Not anymore.

Not when Michael's Grace is no longer sensable. Not when no one is sure if he is even alive. Not when Raphael fears she is the last archangel left.

Not after the Rebellion.

Not after the Apocalypse - or an attempt at it [1].

Not after Lucifer's Fall.

Not after Gabriel's death.

Raphael opens her eyes, tears escaping her vessel as she does.

Are her siblings dead?

The brothers she was raised by - and raised, in Gabriel's case-, gone?

First Lucifer, then Gabriel, and now Michael?

Would Raphael be left to rule Heaven alone?

A heavy weight settles in Raphael's gut, a lump forming in her throat.

Is she alone?

* * *

[1] A piece of Raphael whispers that the Apocalypse didn't continue because Lucifer won. Because Michael and Lucifer fought, and the Devil killed the oldest archangel. Because Michael is dead. Because he is gone and there is nothing Raphael can do about it. But another, more hopeful part of her says that the world would be dead if Lucifer won. That side also says that Lucifer himself is dead. If Michael refuses to come back to Heaven, if he even is alive, maybe he is mourning. Key word in all of this: Maybe.


	3. Chapter 3

~

"My Queen."

Raphael peers up from where she was in deep thought to look down at the kneeling angel before her.

"I told you not to call me that." She whispers, then adds, "Stand up, Suriel."

The Lesser angel gets to their feet hurriedly, and stands up with a nervous look on their face.

"Well?" Raphael asks, impatiently tapping on the armrest of the throne.

"I have... Found Michael. Or at least I think I have... I... I'm not 100%, but it's a lead."

Raphael leans closer, eyes widened, "Tell me." She whispers.

Suriel shifts before answering, quietly, "I believe... Michael... Might be in the Cage. With Lucifer."

"Excuse me?" Raphael shrieks, True Voice rattling out of her throat without much thought to it.

The angels around them turn, and Raphael rolls her eyes, waving a hand at them to get back to work.

"How sure are you? How did you find out? And I swear to Father, if you are lying or making things up, I will have you Fall faster than Lucifer did."

Suriel bites their lip, taking a tentative step backwards, hands up in a defensive gesture.

"Winchesters!" They answer quickly, "I found out from the Winchester brothers."

Raphael tilts her head, eyes narrowing, "Are you too joining Castiel in their little... Posse?"

"No. No! Of course not, my Queen- uhm, my leader?"

"Just Raphael is fine." Raphael mutters.

"Of course not, Raphael," They correct themselves, before saying, "I was listening in to their conversation and, apparently, instead of fighting, Lucifer got himself overthrown by the human, Sam Winchester, and got himself thrown back into the Cage. Michael, apparently, fell in with him." When Raphael's lips tighten they add, "Allegedly! Allegedly. I'm not 100%. About. 70%, maybe. I think. Who knows. Maybe they lied. Maybe they saw wrong. I'm not sure!"

Raphael rubs her forehead, "Stop. Stop talking, Suriel."

"Yes, m- Raphael." They mumble, looking down.

"Alright. Well. I have business to attend to." Raphael mumbles, standing up and spreading her wings. "Do not tell this information to anyone." She says, though it does not exactly matter considering a second later her hand is on Suriel's forehead, wiping the knowledge of the Winchesters's conversation from their mind.

A moment later, and Raphael is flying into Hell.


	4. Chapter 4

~

Lucifer lets out a blood curdling scream.

Hooks deepen in his Grace, twisting and turning this way and that, pulling and tugging at the light like it were flesh.

Stretching and sewing without mercy, never giving him time to calm down, only pulling him through eternal agonizing pain.

"_**MICHAEL**_!" The archangel's cry bursts through the rattling sounds of chains around them, louder than any of the other cries. His True Voice startles every creature in Hell, shocking the Fallen and harming the humanoid Souls.

Red drips out of blackened, almost charred Grace as Lucifer tries to pull himself free of the rusted metal's tight grip.

"_**MICHAEL**_!"

Hellfire licks up from the cracks in the floor of the Cage, seeping in like rising waves. Rainbow coloured flames, from red to yellow, blue and white, the long tongues of fire begin to pull at Lucifer relentlessly.

"_**MICHAEL**_!"

His wings snap out, both in defense and in panic.

The long limbs hit against the walls of the Cage, a rocking, rising ache trailing down to the joints from the sharp burst of pain of the attack.

Burnt, bloody feathers fall from the bone, leaving black flesh and cracked bone revealed to the ruthless hands of the Cage.

"_**MICHAEL**_!"

The waves of fire take hold of the feathers on the ground, floating through the air, and attached to Lucifer's wrecked wings.

Balls of yellow and orange take over the cell as ink-coloured covert and primaries catch aflame.

"_**MICHAEL**_!"

Red, glowing eyes snap wide open, cold metal hooks sinking into them.

A sea of dark crimson fills the Cage, never escaping through the cracks, on matter how wide they are, no matter how far up the fluid fills.

White spots dance in his vision, images of Michael and Gabriel and Raphael trying to take over, to claim his attention.

Feathers are torn off, wings snapped, eyes ripped from sockets, limbs twisted and Grace boiled in front of Lucifer's very eyes.

"**MICHAEL**! **GABRIEL**! **RAPHAEL**!"

The cries are fruitless as Gabriel's left wing is broken in half. A cry tears through the world, though which archangel it is from is up for debate.

"**GABRIEL**!"

A silver blade plunges through Gabriel's Grace, until all of the blinding white dissipating into nothingness, and the dagger falls.

"**RAPHAEL**!"

Red rain drizzles from the empty sockets on Raphael's True Form. Faces bloody, wings bare, Grace weakened.

A wave of blue takes over, overtaking Raphael's entire being in a fiery ball of merciless Hellish Power.

Snow turns to ash, ash to soot, and Raphael is left a bloody mess on the ground.

Once glowing green eyes grow back red, sclerae now pitch black.

"**MICHAEL**!"

A tall form launches itself towards the oldest archangel, body lithe, eyes glowing rose, charred wings spread, weapon out.

Flames engulf them, but only one emerges maimed.

Vessel's skin peeling off, blistered and red, he cries out helplessly in an uncharacteristic show of emotion.

Eyes melting down face, pus dripping past empty sockets as his mouth gapes wordlessly, tongue hanging out half held on.

The sword at his side is lifted up by the other, held over his neck, hovering, waiting.

_'Brother...'_ He whispers, and the blade comes down, ripping out a thick chunk of the bloody organ inside. The blade twists, only to lift back out and pierce through the sternum.

A ball of blinding power explodes out of the vessel, disintegrating the rest of the butchered body.

"**NO**!"

Whispers of false truths speak to Lucifer from every angle.

Murmurs of lies tell stories of death and betrayal.

Hushed voices of deception and trickery never silence.

Treacherous choirs sing through his head as his Grace writhes.

"Michael..."

The helpless whimper escapes his mouth, before Lucifer falls unconscious, nightmare-ish landscapes taking charge.

Michael shivers, letting out a shaky breath as he watches Lucifer's Grace shrink in on itself against the back of the Cage's walls.

A sliver of white swirls through the ash of Lucifer's tainted Grace, only to shudder and fade in on itself.

An impossible thought, - both Michael and Lucifer know not to think it - for the Devil to have good in him.

Michael shuts his eyes, breathing out an unnecessary sigh.

He is about to give in to his exhaustion, no matter how counterproductive he knows it is, when a bright white fills the Cage.

"Father?" Michael's blue eyes snap open, wings spreading as far as they can. He reaches out a wispy arm.

The warm glow calms Michael's Grace, settling his worries and resting his mind.

"Raphael." He whispers, letting the younger intertwine their fingers.

"**IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO COME HOME**, **BROTHER**." Raphael's True Voice sings to Michael, a song of safety, of peace, of family.

"**THANK YOU**." Michael murmurs, eyelids fluttering closed, exhaustion about to take over, when his Grace shudders, and he shrinks back.

"**MICHAEL**. **WE MUST GO**. **I CANNOT STAY HERE MUCH LONGER**, **LEST I GET STUCK**." Raphael calls, grip tightening.

Michael turns, a length of Grace wrapping itself protectively around Lucifer, pulling the younger close, huddling them together while Michael encloses them with his wings.

"**THANK YOU**, **RAPHAEL**." Michael mumbles, and, at last, falls into the warm grasp of unconsciousness.

Raphael's wings beat powerfully against the deep gravitational pull of Hell's air, escaping in an explosion of blinding light and deafening ringing.

They land, with an unceremonious thud in the centre of the Archangels' Quarters.

When the dust settles, and Raphael pulls herself up, she is surprised to see two archangels on the ground, instead of one.


	5. Chapter 5

~

Michael's eyes snap open, body shaking and wings poofing up, sword appearing in his hand.

"**NO**."

"Michael, Michael!" Raphael shouts.

It takes a few seconds to register in the oldest's mind, but when it does, Michael lowers his sword, glowing blue eyes settling and wings cinching shut behind him.

Raphael stands a few feet away, hands held out in a gesture of peace, green eyes inspecting Michael with increasing concern.

"Relax. Relax. It's just me, it's just me..." Raphael says, quietly, before taking a careful step forward.

One second Michael is standing, sword in hand, and the next he is on his knees, wings wrapped tightly around himself, sword lying on the ground beside him.

"Oh." Raphael murmurs, going to the elder's side, a tentative hand reaching out to touch his back, careful not to hit his wings. "Michael... Michael, it's ok." She tries, voice soft, gentle, warm.

Michael's eyes remain screwed shut, body tense and feathers flared up.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Raphael mumbles, watching him intently, "No one is. I want to heal you, help you, get you back to your senses. Do you want me to help you?"

Michael doesn't answer, silent tears streaming down his face. His vessel looks familiar to Raphael, with sharp cheek and jawbones and dark brown hair. How he got the form, the Healer isn't sure she'll ever know.

"Michael... Michael, can you hear me?" She tilts her head, watching his face as best as she can through the snowy, ruffled feathers.

It takes a lot more coaxing, and careful wording and gestures, but, finally, Michael looks up.

"There we go." Raphael mumbles, smiling welcomingly at the oldest. "I'm right here, don't worry."

Michael's swollen eyes shine in Heaven's light, with distrust and fear decorating them. "No one's going to hurt you, Michael." Raphael reassures him, hands on his biceps as she helps the elder to his feet.

"Good job, you're doing perfect." She says, encouragingly, a gentle smile adding to the glowing warmth radiating off of the Healer. "And now onto the bed..." Michael is led back a few feet to a white mattress, where he sits and looks at as if it would snap closed on him.

"You're doing great." Raphael runs her hands up and down Michael's arms. She turns and waves a syringe into existence, holding it with one hand, the other held out in that same, palm-out, peaceful sign. "I'm just going to give you something to relax you. How does that sound, Michael?"

He stares at Raphael blankly, shifting uncomfortably as his eyes look at the needle. "... **NO**."

Raphael doesn't flinch at Michael's True Voice, though why he is using it in such close quarters in Heaven does confuse her.

"It'll only hurt for a minute."

"... **NO**."

Raphael sighs, looking down at the ground for a minute before lifting her head and trying, "If you let me give you this, you can see Lucifer."

Michael's eyes widen and glow royal blue, "**LUCIFER IS SAFE**?"

Raphael nods wordlessly, and Michael holds out an arm. A triumphant smile tugs at Raphael's lips as she injects the Holy liquid into him.

"**LUCIFER**. **NOW**." Michael orders, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulling down into almost a pout.

"Alright. He's in the other room."

Raphael leads the Warrior into the room adjacent to his, to reveal Lucifer's sleeping form curled up in an identical white mattress.

Three damaged wings lie on either side of him, white bandages wrapping them tightly.

His vessel remains rotting, half-living, just as before he took Sam.

IVs and machines sit around him - many of which they never had to use before, never even had in Heaven.

"**LUCIFER**-" Michael all but chokes out, reaching his side in a blind panic, grabbing both of his hands in one of his own, the other touching the younger's cheek.

"His vessel is weak." Raphael says, quietly, "But I cannot remove him from it. His... His Grace is too damaged."

Michael looks up at Raphael, eyes watering.

"The vessel is all that's keeping him together. I'm trying to strengthen it, but I don't know how long it'll take, since the Soul is dead and Lucifer's Grace is..." She trails off, seeing Michael's panicked look.

"**IS WHAT**?" Michael, takes a slow step forward, Grace flaring up dangerously in the back of his eyes.

Raphael stands her ground, giving him a stern look, "You are going to burn yourself out, Michael."

"**TELL ME**, **RAPHAEL**."

"You need to lie down."

"_**TELL **_**ME**."

"Get back to your bed, right now."

"_**TELL ME**_!"

"**I SAID _NOW_**!" Raphael's wings stretch out, wings glistening a gentle grass green at the tips.

Michael tries to spread his wings, his Grace struggling to stay up as the shine in his eyes falters, flickering on and off.

The oldest archangel faints on the spot, eyes rolling back into his head, wings folding back into another dimension and Grace settling back into the pocket below his vessel's sternum.

"Idiot." Raphael mutters, her own Angelic qualities relaxes as she waves a hand to carry Michael's body back to the bed.


End file.
